Sin
by R.M1
Summary: I was in a really bad mood when I wrote this. After Valgarv is reincarnated, he knows there's still some mazoku in him, and he can't deal with that.


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I was in a bad mood. Takes place about 15 years after Try.

**Sin**

I'm weak. Scared even. Me? Scared of a death that's been too long in coming as it is anyway? Yes. But I just want to die anyway. I'm sick of it. This place has made me so sick. I tried to make it all up to the world, I really did. I tore into my own skin, let my own blood spill for them and let water fill up my lungs. Ever scare I have now is a memento of the punishments I've been dealing on myself for the last five years.

"There's a monster inside me, Mommy." I used to say. Filia would smile kindly and assure me there wasn't-that I was just as good and perfect and pure as anyone else on this planet. But she's wrong about that. There's something inside me, a voice like cold jade burrowed and hidden in my skin. So, if anyone was wondering, is why I drew the knife in the first place. 

The priest who come to look at Filia when she was sick had been scared of me. His eyes, hidden beneith eye brows resembling bushes, had widened. He had produced a pendent from nowhere and started chanting. I hated him for chanting, the words were bizzings in my ear, annoying pains and I wanted to swat at and destroy. There was this sense...the sense that destrution was the path I should walk. No more training to be a poor, pure creature who was kind to everyone. I had wanted to kill him. And I saw myself killing him in some sick fantasy, devouring his flesh and drinking his blood as it fell in little puddles on the floor. 

Then the priest fled the house. Filia must have spent hours consouling me. Telling me there was nothing wrong and the priest must have just been something else in the house. I nodded numbly, horrified I had thought about ending another creature's life. It made me so sick. I wandered into the kitchen and looked around. The first thing I saw was a knife. 

I had intended on killing myself, just letting the blade sink into my wrist and just let the ensense of me pour onto the floor. But I didn't have the courage to let the knife go all in. I watched the blood roll down my arm like ruby leeches and I paniced. I paniced and just watched it. Then I realized I *liked* the pain. I realized I needed it to repent for what I had just thought about doing. 

'Thou Shall Not Kill'. 

So everytime I did something against the word of our Lord Cephid, I cut myself. And when the scars became too visable I started letting water into my lungs. A few times everything went black and it was frightening. I thought "I could have died!". But I know now that's the ultimate goal.

Yes, it is. 

If I hurt myself I'm repenting for what I've done wrong. 

I wonder when I finally go too deep. 

I hope for that day. 

var yviContents='http://us.toto.geo.yahoo.com/toto?s=76001089 geovisit();

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/rei_maria/sin.html#



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